A Cause for Celebration
by Runeai
Summary: Brock has won his first big breeding competition, and Ash and Misty decide to help him celebrate. \\ Memefill, one-shot. LEMON. Ash/Misty/Brock.


**A/N: **Written for a prompt on the kinkmeme, and posted as a whole here and on LJ for the lovely OP, who had a lot of encouragement for me when I got stumped. :3

**WARNING(S): **Fairly graphic sex, threesome, M/M sex. If something else occurs to me, I'll put it here. But seriously, please heed these, guys.

This is basically a PWP, except with a smattering of plot, and a fair chunk of fluff.

Enjoy!

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**A Cause for Celebration**

_By Runeai_

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Ash is staying with Misty in Cerulean City when Brock gives them the news, his face filling up the Gym's videophone and his excitement practically palpable. There's been a huge, Kanto-wide breeding competition going for the last month, and they realise he's won long before he finally blurts it out. Ash and Misty reach the decision to celebrate almost as soon as the announcement is out of his mouth, and it's with an ecstatic grin that his image winks out of existence.

Misty glances at Ash once the video phone goes silent, his fingers dancing on her thigh. "We'll have to buy some champagne."

"I think," Ash breathes, his other hand brushing the skin under her shirt, "that we should give him something extra, too."

She leans over and catches her boyfriend's mouth in hers, teeth dragging on his bottom lip, and lets her moan do the talking.

* * *

Pewter Gym looks much the same from the outside as it always has, and for a moment Ash is struck by a feeling of nostalgia. However, it's not to the Gym that they're headed, and with a fond giggle Misty kisses him quickly and then drags him away. They carry a light backpack each – the offer to stay the night was there, and with a somewhat wicked gleam in Ash's eye he took Brock up on it – and much to his chagrin, Pikachu has been left under the care of the Sensational Sisters. Two bottles of ketchup later, however, and the Pokémon had readily agreed to stay behind.

Brock now keeps a small townhouse in the city centre; the place is neat, and so very Brock that both Ash and Misty grin. Misty tugs at a strand of loose hair, her trademark ponytail abandoned in favour of a free-flowing, shorter hairstyle. She shifts the strap of her pack where it digs into her shoulder and glances at Ash (who winks), and then sharply knocks on the door once, twice, a bubble of excitement and anticipation rising in her chest.

The twenty six year old who answers the door is not so different from the teen they'd once travelled with, but Brock has filled out since then and is undeniably a young man. He beams when he sees them, pride and happiness practically radiating from him as he welcomes them inside. "I'm so glad you guys could make it," he tells them as they dump their bags on the lounge-room floor. Misty rummages in hers for the bottle of champagne and box of chocolates they'd brought, and when she hands them to Brock with a kiss on the cheek, he ruffles her hair with a smile.

She's not entirely sure she imagined the light dusting of a blush over his cheeks.

Brock is quick to bring down three fairly expensive looking glasses, explaining the set was a gift from his parents Christmas last. "So be careful, Ash," he laughs.

Ash protests that he wasn't the klutz once was, to which Misty rolls her eyes. "He's marginally less clumsy, is what he means," she says, and both Brock and Ash chuckle.

The champagne is great, but Brock's dinner is better, and he overrides their exclamations that he should really have let them prepare _him_ dinner, given that he's the one they're all celebrating for. Over dinner he regales them all with tales of the competition, and the easy camaraderie that the three of them has always enjoyed makes Misty feel warm, safe and content. It's after the plates have been cleared away, and they're all three lounging about on Brock's extremely comfortable lounge suite, that Ash grins at her and she winks subtly in return.

Sorely depleted by this point, the box of chocolates lies open on the wooden coffee table in front of them. It's dark outside, and privately Misty thinks that it's probably about time that Brock was able to enjoy the _rest_ of the celebrations. There's a small smudge of chocolate at the corner of his mouth, and mid-sentence, she murmurs, "Hey, Brock, you've got a little something –"

He breaks off and turns, smiles and says, "Oh, thanks."

Brock moves to wipe the really very small amount of chocolate off himself, but Misty beats him to it, leaning forward and cleaning away the offending smudge with her tongue, catching the edge of his lips in hers. He pulls back immediately, startled, and looks at her in shock. "Misty, what – ?"

Misty smiles coyly, leaning against the back of the couch. The top she'd chosen to wear wasn't exactly the most modest piece of clothing in her wardrobe, and the way she's leant slightly forward puts any cleavage she has on show, the black lace of her bra peeking out from behind the cloth. Brock glances down before he can stop himself, but snaps his head back up to meet her eyes straight away, blushing.

"Well, it's gone now," Misty points out, and Brock's eyebrows shoot up.

He mumbles something about how it's not decent and looks at Ash, obviously expecting to see outrage, shock, or jealousy. However, Ash's expression shows none of those things; he's lying stretched out on the leather of the couch, hands crossed behind his head and his feet barely brushing Brock's thigh. Misty's fingers are running up and down his arm, and she thinks it's almost comical the way his shock contrasts with the very obvious fact that he's not brushing her off and, you know, _running to the other side of the room in horror_, or something.

"We thought," Ash begins as Misty runs her fingers under the material, gauging his reaction, "that… well – you've done so great, and there's no-one for you to _really_ celebrate with."

Misty's very proud of her boyfriend for how little embarrassment he shows. Even though it was his idea, Misty knows that the thought of carrying it out is cause for slight shyness on his part; it reminds him of the kid he was (and for the most part still is).

"But you guys are here to celebrate with me," Brock says, and despite herself, Misty snorts with laughter. _For someone who fancies himself such a ladies man, you can be so oblivious,_ she thinks.

She cups his cheek with one hand and turns his face so that he's looking at her. There is a wary but curious expression in his eyes, and she takes the fact that – again – he's not brushing her off as permission to continue. "Exactly," she says, and kisses him.

His lips are slightly chapped and he tastes of chocolate and champagne. Misty kisses him slowly, trying to coax a response out of him, enjoying how different and yet similar he feels to Ash. She almost pulls away, ready to apologise and suggest they forget about the entire thing, when he mutters a soft curse against her lips, and kisses back. Misty grins and runs her tongue experimentally along his lower lip, and when his mouth opens under hers she shifts and deepens the kiss. There's nothing gentle or tender about it – it's bruising and harsh, and full of blatant _want_. One of her hands cups the back of his head, her other under his shirt, fingers splayed out against his skin. She nips his lip lightly, and her fingers skim under the waistband of his trousers, curious. He twitches and pulls away roughly, and Misty draws back completely, watching him.

"Guys…" Brock mumbles. His breathing is a little harsh, his lips a little swollen. He sighs, and scrubs a hand over his eyes.

Misty looks at Ash, who smiles at her a little ruefully – _it was worth a shot_, he seems to say – before sitting up and putting a hand on Brock's shoulder. "It doesn't have to go any further."

She snorts and mutters, "Call the ambulance – Ash is being mature."

Brock laughs. "My two little charges are all so grown up."

Misty can't help joining in his laughter, and neither can Ash. The tension in the room dissipates, and Misty grins, resting her cheek on one hand. Ash mirrors her pose, leaning sideways against the back of the couch, and ventures, "So you _don't_ mind, then."

It's not really a question, and in reply Brock quirks an eyebrow. "I didn't know you were bi, Ash," he says, playfully flicking a spike of messy black hair out of the younger trainer's face. "You managed to keep it from me. Sneaky."

Ash's hand is on the back of Brock's neck, toying with his hair; Misty stretches out, lying down with her head in Brock's lap and blinking up at the champion breeder in feigned innocence. Brock shakes his head, disbelief and amusement clear, but his right hand comes to rest lightly on Misty's stomach. Abruptly, Ash leans down, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses from Brock's collar to his jaw. Misty watches as Brock bites his lip, indecision playing out over his face; nonetheless, his head tilts sideways to give Ash better access, and her boyfriend takes advantage of that immediately.

"We really shouldn't – you've got to admit it's kind of weird… almost family –" Brock's protests are voiced weakly, his words halting, and whatever else he was about to say is cut off with an involuntary moan as Ash finds a sensitive spot with his tongue. Misty grins, knowing that if he really wanted them to stop, he wouldn't have let them get this far. She unwinds her arms above her head, purposefully brushing against Brock's obvious arousal as she does so.

"We're not even distantly related," Misty points out.

"It can just be a one off thing," Ash adds in between kisses, "but fuck, you need someone to celebrate with."

"Or fuck you senseless," Misty laughs, "'cause you deserve it."

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Ash's hand cup the bulge in Brock's trousers, eliciting a low hiss from him. Not about to let Ash have all the fun, Misty turns her head, mouthing Brock through the fabric. His head tips back and the hand on Misty's stomach fists in her shirt. Suddenly, he stands, breaking the contact. Ash falls on top of her comically, his support gone, and Misty bites his arm playfully where it lands in front of her eyes. Brock clears his throat, and shifts his weight to his other foot. "I think," he begins, and then clears his throat again.

Misty stands and goes to him, wrapping her arms around his middle from behind. "Yes?" Her lips move against his skin when she speaks, and Brock shivers slightly.

Eyes partly darkened, Ash drags himself off the couch and stands barely inches from their friend, waiting for an answer. The silence stretches for a moment, and then Brock swears. "Screw it." From Ash's expression, she knows Brock is grinning. "We're not all going to fit onto the couch."

"Lead the way, then," Misty purrs.

Ash goes to close the gap between them, but Brock stops him with a finger against his lips. Impatient, Ash runs his tongue along it, and despite herself Misty snorts. "You can't wait thirty seconds until we're actually in the bedroom?" Brock jibes fondly.

Grabbing him by the hips, Ash grins. "Better be the quickest thirty seconds of my life."

* * *

It's a little longer than thirty seconds, in the end – Brock fumbles a little with the stairs and then the door, and Misty watches him, equal parts amusement, lust and fondness. Ash stands behind her with his hand on her arse; she's not exactly sure why she finds his eagerness so comical, but she fights giggles as Brock leads the way into his bedroom. Ash nips her lightly on the neck as he goes past, and she swats him on the head playfully.

The door has barely closed before Brock's back hits the wood with a thud and a groan, bending down slightly as his lips are captured by his shorter friend. Misty smirks and raises an eyebrow at how all of Brock's protests seem to have dissolved; his hands are on Ash's hips, fingers digging in, and their kiss is heated and forceful.

Knowing she's lying to herself if she thinks she's unaffected by their efforts, Misty bites her lip and ignores the heat pooling between her thighs, slowly and deliberately undoing each of the buttons on her shirt before slipping it off entirely. She considers her shorts, but decides that Ash would prefer to deal with those, and then stretches out on her back on Brock's large, comfortable bed.

In the time it took her to take off her top, Brock and Ash became considerably more passionate. Misty prides herself on her composure, growing increasingly frustrated with her building arousal and lack of reprieve. Brock's eyes are closed and his head is tipped back and to the side, Ash's lips and tongue on his neck. His hands are firmly around Ash's arse, and when Ash rolls his hips against the breeder's, Brock moans and grips Ash tighter.

Misty swears under her breath and shoves her hands under her head, so that she doesn't thrust them down her shorts.

"I think Misty's getting a little frustrated," Ash quips, pulling away from Brock with apparent reluctance.

"You don't say," Misty deadpans.

Brock snorts. However, when he raises his head and looks at Misty, he flushes and she grins. "See something you like?"

He rolls his eyes as Ash nearly tugs him towards the bed. "Of course you're still a wise crack in bed. _Of course_."

"Yeah, none of this sweet-as-pie in the bedroom business for Misty," Ash laughs, and then cuts off Brock's reply with a hand between his thighs. She watches the breeder bite his lip and she smirks, undoing the top button of her shorts.

Ash's eyes immediately go to her at the sound of her starting to pull down the zip. "What are you doing?"

"I don't know, Ash," Brock supplies teasingly. "It looks like she's undressing."

Misty grins when Ash practically jumps on the bed, hands going immediately to her shorts. She ruffles his hair and then looks out of half lidded eyes at Brock, standing almost awkwardly beside his own bed, watching his two best friends upon it. "Strip."

Brock looks a little taken aback. "Me?"

She rolls her eyes. "No, Ash. _Yes_, you. Get on with it. _Strip_."

He mumbles something under his breath that she doesn't quite catch, but it's accompanied by a fond chuckle and his hands go to the hem of his t-shirt obediently. As he goes to lift it above his head, however, she murmurs, "Slower."

Brock shakes his head, but obliges. Misty doesn't even bother pretending she's not enjoying the sight. He's not extremely well muscled, but he's lean and toned and she rakes her eyes over his stomach and chest as his shirt comes off, a small, hand-made wooden pendant on a leather thong bouncing on his chest. She's never noticed him wearing it before, and a smile tugs up the corner of her mouth as she realises it must be a gift from one of his siblings. Then Brock meets her eyes and throws his shirt on the floor beside him, and she's momentarily distracted by Ash's mouth on each of her inner thighs, eliciting a shiver from her, before her shorts are dragged off to join Brock's shirt on the floor.

She can feel both their eyes on her (and for once thanks her sisters – the matching set of black lingerie was a gift from them), Ash's gaze filled with a familiar lust, Brock's still tinged with a hint of shame. Her boyfriend tweaks the elastic of her underwear, and she swats at his hand. "You're entirely too dressed for that."

Ash mutters something about "demanding girlfriend", muffled by his shirt coming over his head, but Misty ignores him in favour of eyeing Brock. "I didn't ask you to stop."

He raises an eyebrow at her – it almost irks her that she knows he's humouring her with fond exasperation – but his hands go to his belt nonetheless. There's the sound of leather against denim, and Misty's breath hitches slightly in anticipation as he goes to the zipper. Not a shred of self-consciousness plays into his demeanour as he pulls it down and roughly pushes his jeans to the floor. Naked save for his underwear, Brock meets her eyes and gives her a questioning look, fingers resting just at the elastic.

Pushing herself upright and off the bed, she stands in front of him and still his hand with hers. Without saying a word, she pulls him down for a kiss, pressing herself up against him. She grabs his hands and guides them to the clasp at her back; they don't tremble at all as he deftly undoes it, and Misty pulls away just enough to let her bra slip off her shoulders and fall to the ground. Bare breasts crushed to his chest, Misty feels his arousal pressing into her thigh, hard and firm. Fingers skim the underside of her breasts and she grins, wanting him to go further. She draws back, breaking the kiss.

Brock's eyes stay glued to her face almost guiltily, and she smiles, half reassuring and half seductive. "You can look, you know."

His eyes drop almost immediately, but then a voice from behind her interjects, "Not if I do this!"

It's with a cheeky expression that Ash cups both his hands around her breasts, fingers skimming over her nipples. He's entirely naked and Misty knows she's getting wetter and wetter at the feel of skin on skin combined with how his hands are massaging her. Her head tips back of its own accord, and though her eyes slide shut, she manages to bite back her moan.

"I can still see her nipples," Brock points out, but his voice is shaking a little, and it draws her attention back to him. Ash chooses not to dignify his comment with a reply, leaving kisses all over Misty's shoulder and neck. She reaches for Brock, and rests her hands on his hips. His eyes are full of lust, and his erection strains against its cloth confines, but when he goes to touch himself she stops him.

He frowns at her, and in reply she smirks at him, stroking him with one finger. He twitches at her touch. Breaking free of Ash's hold with slight reluctance, Misty tries not to notice how her breasts feel somewhat cold without the contact. Instead, she kisses Brock swiftly and then grins at him, hooking her fingers under the elastic and slowly sliding the cloth down his thighs. She can feel both their eyes on her, but doesn't let it deter her as she makes a show of getting to her knees, kissing and nipping as she goes down. In one sure movement, she tugs the cloth down completely, and his cock springs free. She has the fleeting thought that he's bigger than Ash, before making a mental note never to mention this fact to her boyfriend.

Misty kisses Brock's thigh as he steps out of the fabric, and behind her, voice heavy with arousal, Ash murmurs, "Tease."

Deciding that actions speak far louder than words, she leans forward and licks Brock slowly and deliberately, dragging her tongue along the underside of his cock from base to tip. His breath whistles out through his teeth in a low hiss and a hand goes automatically to tangle in her hair, fiery red strands twisting around dark fingers. She swirls her tongue once around the tip, and the hand in her hair clenches. The temptation is to take all of him in her mouth, but Misty draws back, glancing up at Brock, who meets her eyes with a mumbled, "Fuck."

Misty licks her lips exaggeratedly, Brock's eyes following the movement, before standing. With a hand on Brock's chest, she turns him around, walking him backward towards the bed and winking at Ash as she does so. Brock's knees hit the edge of the mattress, and as she pushes him lightly on the chest so that he falls backward, Misty gestures to the last strip of clothing she has left, and murmurs, "Your turn."

* * *

Misty almost expects them to start comparing sizes in playful competition, but there's nothing coherent about the words coming out of Brock and Ash's mouths. Ash has Brock pinned to the bed, his hand curled around the breeder's cock; Brock's hands are clenched in his sheets, and he doesn't even bother holding back the occasional gasp or moan.

She's not entirely sure the sight of her boyfriend with his hand on another guy's cock should be as fucking erotic as it is, but then, Misty supposes, she had her _tongue_ on that cock just a few moments ago. Although she wants to demand they take her until she comes over and over again, Misty knows it's for Brock and so she kneels behind her boyfriend, dragging her nails lightly down his chest so that he shivers. She wraps a hand around him, familiar and hot, and a groan stutters out of his throat.

It's low and filthy, but Misty hears every word as Ash leans over and whispers in Brock's ear, "How do you feel about penetration?"

Misty's hands still in anticipation of his answer, and there's no hint of his earlier shyness when Brock replies, "Lube's in the bedside drawers."

It occurs to her briefly that he's slept with men before and she fleetingly wonders who and when, before Ash leaves the bed to retrieve the aforementioned lube and Brock makes a frustrated noise at the loss of contact. Misty stretches herself out on the bed beside him and, guiding his hand to her breast, informs him, "Can't have you coming just yet."

He raises an eyebrow at her and tweaks her nipple between his fingers. "No?"

Misty shifts so that she's the one pinning him down, and rubs herself against him once, briefly. "You'll come," she says, punctuating her words with kisses, "with Ash inside you –" she bites his neck, soothing the bright red mark with her tongue – "and with you inside me." Brock's hand clenches on her breast. Misty bites her lip. "Flip us."

He does, and being at his mercy for a brief moment sends a thrill through Misty, before she takes charge again. "Your tongue – your tongue, on me."

She spreads her legs, and Brock moves down her body to place his head between them. "So, so wet, Misty," he mumbles, and his breath ghosts over her sex, making her shiver. A witty reply forms at the edge of her lips, but her words die in her throat as Brock abruptly drags his tongue over her clit. Pleasure crashing over her, Misty involuntarily bucks her hips up, her legs spreading wider. Then Ash, having climbed back up on the bed, takes her nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling around the firm, sensitive bud. It's almost too much for her, and so she tugs Brock back up toward her by the arm, a wordless request.

Before he can move back to his previous position fully, Ash grins and captures his mouth in a searing kiss; her boyfriend moans into the breeder's mouth, and Misty almost gives in to the urge to take care of herself. Ash pulls away, and with almost a purr, says, "You taste like Misty."

Brock goes to reply, but Ash moves so that he's kneeling behind him, cutting him off with a stroke of his hand. Apparently, the part of Brock's brain that is highly sensible is still somewhat present, for he blurts, "I've got condoms, too."

Misty grins. "I'm on the pill, and we're all clean."

Brock shrugs, and Ash chooses that moment to insert one slick finger into him, stretching and testing. Brock's head tips back in a moan. Misty swears under her breath, and Ash goes for a second finger. The older trainer squirms. "If you don't want me to come yet," Brock pants, "you better – oh, fuck," he breathes, as Ash's fingers twist inside him.

Misty pulls him down for a quick kiss. "Point taken," she concedes, and then wraps her legs around his hips. "Fuck me, Brock."

He doesn't need any further encouragement, and as she goes to thrust her hips against him, he meets her halfway. At the feel of his cock filling her, Misty moans and pounds her hips upwards. She wants to tell him to take it slow, to let them both really appreciate him, but she was already close and their rhythm gets more and more desperate. The exact moment that Ash chooses to thrust into Brock is punctuated by the breeder's shout, and when Misty opens her eyes to see her boyfriend gripping Brock's hips, taking him hard and fast from behind, it almost undoes her. Ash's eyes meet hers and he winks.

Misty can feel her orgasm building – she shifts, changing the angle slightly, and when Brock's next thrust hits that sweet spot inside of her hard, she topples over the edge with a cry, clenching around him. It doesn't take much longer before Brock's own orgasm crashes over him, and as Misty rides hers out, she feels him come inside her, the sensation drawing a groan from her. Ash is the last to come; Misty feels Brock slide out of her, and she watches as her boyfriend continues to take him, pounding into him almost brutally. Ash comes with his eyes locked on Misty's, and when he slides out of Brock he collapses next to her.

His arm slides about her waist, pulling her to him in an embrace, and they both watch cautiously for Brock's reaction. There's a brief moment where Misty's sure what they've just done is going to hit him hard and he's going to be appalled, before a grin stretches lazily across his face. "Best fucking sex of my life," he admits, and all three of them laugh. "You can just sleep here, if you want."

"Suits me fine," Ash replies, and yawns.

Brock shakes his head fondly, making a dash out of bed for the lights. When he comes back to the bed, he draws the blankets over them, settling with a soft sigh. Misty has the fleeting thought that there's no way their friendship could remain unchanged, but when she opens her eyes and sees Brock already near sleep, a sated, happy smile tugging at his lips, she can't help but think that whatever change it brings, it can only be the good kind. With that thought in mind, Ash's arm about her waist and Brock's legs tangled with hers under the covers, Misty lets herself drift off to sleep.

* * *

When Brock wakes up the next morning to his two sleepy friends stirring next to him, the first words out of his mouth are: "Round two?"

* * *

**A/N: **Like I said in my LJ post of this fic, I feel like I should be ashamed, except I'm not. Yay for writing stuff like this about childhood characters…? Oh God.

Anyway, reviews are lovely, flames are not. If you read this without heeding the warnings, that is entirely your fault.

Have fun, my lovelies.

Runeai


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